


everything that drowns me

by cassiesandsmarked



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Titanic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiesandsmarked/pseuds/cassiesandsmarked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The man grins, his cheeks dimpling, and it reminds Billy of the sun—bright and warm and lovely—and Billy thinks that it is probably the most amazing smile he’s ever seen. "Hi," the man says, then, and it almost manages to make Billy smile, too. "I’m Teddy Altman."' </p><p>or, a billy/teddy titanic AU in which billy is rich and miserable and teddy is an artist in third-class who changes billy's life for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything that drowns me

**Author's Note:**

> first off, a million thanks to [anya](http://spoileralerted.tumblr.com), who beta'd this fic and fed my ego until i felt good enough about it to post it!
> 
> [8tracks mix](http://8tracks.com/cassiesandsmark/hold-on-before-i-m-gone) for this fic.
> 
> also! warning for attempted suicide in one scene.

“Billy, _darling_ ,” Kate greets as she sidles up beside him and loops her arm through his. Then she leans in and rests her chin on his shoulder, smiling easily while she hisses, “Your mother is staring, so, for God’s sake, at least pretend to be excited. This is _Titanic_ , after all.”

“But I’m _not_ , Katie,” Billy replies, but manages a small smile nonetheless.

Kate rolls her eyes at him exasperatedly and firmly grasps his hand in hers, which apparently satisfies his mother, as she turns to check on their luggage. “I’m hardly jumping for joy, either,” Kate reminds him. “You seem to be forgetting that I want to marry you even less than you want to marry me.”

“That’s debatable,” Billy tells her with a cheeky grin, the warmth of her hand in his managing to, however momentarily, chase off the impending sense of dread that had been gnawing at him since his mother and Kate’s father had arranged the engagement.

There is something oddly comforting about knowing that someone understands his suffering.

Billy loves Kate, he does, but like a sister—which only makes their situation worse, of course. He knows they’ll be expected to have children one day and the thought alone makes his chest seize in panic. He’s never been with a woman, never even been kissed by one other than Kate, with her chaste, platonic pecks that always leave faint, rosy lipstick smudges behind.

He remembers telling Kate as much before they had been betrothed—before this whole mess had begun to unravel. They had taken a bottle of wine from Kate’s father’s cabinet and the truth had spilled from his lips while they sat, giggling drunkenly, on Kate’s bedroom floor. She had laughed and patted his knee comfortingly, saying, “Have you ever thought that maybe that’s because you aren’t entirely interested in women?”

He remembers how those words repeated over and over and over again in his mind for days and he remembers throwing himself down on Kate’s bed in a fit of near-hysteria before gasping, “Oh, God, Katie. I’m not interested in women.”

Kate had snorted and replied, “Well, that’s alright. I’m interested in women enough for the both of us, I think.” They’d stared at each other, unblinking, for a few moments before collapsing into loud, raucous laughter.

Kate always knows what to say to make him feel better, Billy thinks as she tugs him closer to the ship—the _Titanic_. The ship of dreams, he’s heard it called. Except, to Billy, it feels more like a noose, tightening around his neck right before the ground drops out from underneath him. The closer he gets to the ship, the further he can feel his freedom drifting away. It is one thing, his mother had said, to mess around while they are in England, but he has responsibilities and, once they arrive home, she expects him to settle down.

The pit in Billy’s stomach grows larger the closer they get to the ship.

“It is sort of beautiful, though, isn’t it?” Kate comments after taking a long moment to take in the enormity of the _Titanic_.

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “It’s… big,” he answers finally.

Kate arches her eyebrows and barks a laugh. “ _It’s… big_ ,” she repeats mockingly in a deep, alto pitch that Billy assumes is supposed to sound like him. He cracks a grin.

A whistle blows somewhere nearby and a man begins calling for final boarding. Kate looks at him for a long moment before she squeezes his hand and says with a wry smile, “Come on, Kaplan. We wouldn’t want the ship to leave without us.”

Yes, Billy thinks sullenly. What a tragedy that would be.

* * *

 

“Well, I’m all in, _chicos_ ,” America says, leering predatorily at the two men across the table.

That is enough to startle Teddy out of the stupor he had fallen into while watching the ship through the window, listening to the muted chatter of the masses crowded around the port. Teddy grabs her arm and hisses, “Are you insane, Chavez? That’s _my_ hard-earned money you’re betting.”

She just grins at him confidently and pats his hand. “Relax, Altman. I know what I’m doing.”

Teddy is wary—because _damn it_ , he needs those tickets, he needs to go _home_ —but he backs off because he’s seen America cheat men out of hundreds, so surely she can win a couple tickets in a card game.

He’s proven right when she lets out a victorious holler a few minutes later as she slaps her cards down and pockets the money, as well as the two white tickets. The two men she beat are both still shouting curses—who they’re shouting at, Teddy isn’t entirely certain—while America shoves him out the door and takes off towards the ship.

Teddy’s heart is still thump, thump, thumping in his chest so loudly that he can hear it pounding in his ears even after they just barely make it onto the ship and they both collapse against the wall, laughing.

“We did it,” he says to her with a grin before letting out an exhilarated whoop of joy.

“Hell yeah, we did,” America agrees, her chest still heaving with every breath, before clapping him on the back once and letting him tug her up onto the deck to stare out at the people waving from the port, shouting goodbyes.

Teddy is bouncing up on his toes, grinning from ear to ear as he leans out over the railing and waves excitedly at the crowds. “Goodbye, Southampton! Goodbye!” he shouts.

America shakes her head when he nudges her in the side and beams at her with that perfect, bright smile of his. “Idiot,” she says fondly.

* * *

 

Billy's quarters, like the rest of the ship, are decorated extravagantly. Billy finds that he hates the room immediately.

“The view certainly is something, at least,” says Kate from beside one of the massive windows.

Billy joins her, pressing a hand to the glass as he peers across the glassy surface of the open ocean that extends far beyond the horizon, far beyond what Billy can see or even fathom. That, Billy thinks, is what freedom looks like. “It’s lovely,” he agrees before letting his hand drop to his side.

He feels tired—exhausted, really—and steps back from the window. When Kate turns towards him, he tries to mask it, hiding behind a painted on smile, but Kate has always been able to see through him as if he were made of glass.

She smiles. “Let’s get some air,” she says and takes him by the arm before he has a chance to say that, no, really, Kate, he’d like to wallow in self-pity for a little while longer, if that’s alright.

* * *

 

It takes America ages to pry Teddy away from the bow of the ship, where he’d stood with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed for nearly an hour while the wind whipped through his hair and a light spray of ocean water hit his skin, but she manages it eventually.

Now, they sit on the lower deck, America lounging against the rails with a cigarette, occasionally blowing smoke in Teddy’s face just to see him wrinkle his nose up in annoyance, and Teddy sitting with his sketchbook in his lap, intently sketching the couple who sits across from them. The sketchbook is really the only thing Teddy carries with him, these days—just it and the clothes on his back. The book’s leather is worn and the binding is falling apart, but it used to belong to his mother and Teddy can’t imagine getting rid of it.

He only glances up from the piece when he hears America scoff. “Look at them,” she says without bothering to mask the disgust in her voice. Teddy peers up, squinting when the sun hits his eyes, at the upper deck, where the first-class passengers lounge, sipping expensive-looking drinks and occasionally shooting looks of disdain in the direction of the lower deck. “With their fancy clothes and posh accents.”

“I know, it’s awful,” Teddy answers in a teasing voice. “How _dare_ they?”

Faintly, Teddy hears America’s reply of, “Shut it, Altman,” but, really, he’s paying more attention to the man who is walking up to the rail of the upper deck. He’s handsome— _incredibly_ handsome—with high cheekbones and pale skin and dark hair that flops into his face. He’s well-dressed and there is a stunning dark-haired woman standing beside him with her arm wrapped around his shoulders.

That’s when America hits him and he startles. “You still with me, Ted?” she asks with a smirk, her dark eyes moving rapidly between him and the dark-haired man.

Teddy ignores her and flips the page in his sketchbook before putting his charcoal to the paper and beginning to draw the tense, pursed curve of the man’s lips.

“Forget it, _chico_. You’re cute, but you’re not nearly cute enough for someone like him to look at twice.” Her voice sounds distant, almost a little wistful, and, when Teddy looks up, he sees that her eyes are locked on the gorgeous woman next to the man he’s sketching.

That night, Teddy has trouble closing his eyes without imagining the angles of the young man’s face or the way that his hair kept falling into his eyes and, eventually, he gives up on sleeping altogether and slips out of the room, despite America’s tiredly mumbled, “Where the hell’re you going?”

He flops down on a bench on the lower deck of the ship and folds his hands beneath his head. The only sounds are the ship’s engine and the waves crashing against it as it cuts through the water with immeasurable grace. The sky is dark, speckled with brilliant, bright stars, brighter than Teddy has ever seen them before. He wishes he could freeze this moment, wishes he could live forever in the sound of the whirring propellers and the never-ending expanse of the starry sky.

* * *

 

Billy feels sick. It isn’t a physical sickness, though—there is no nausea, no headache, no real pain, except for the dull aching in his chest that had taken root when they boarded the ship. He stands, suddenly, ignoring the startled exclamations from a few of the other dinner guests, and mumbles a quick excuse before hurrying from the banquet room.

His head is spinning and he feels anxiety seizing in his gut as he breaks into a run, gasping unevenly through the tearless sobs that wrench out of his throat.

“I can’t—I can’t, I can’t.” He isn’t sure what he’s saying, really, just that he needs to say it, needs to get it out because it’s eating him alive. He collapses against the railing along the stern of the ship and braces himself against it, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

He looks down. The water is wild and dark and churning beneath him, with white foam licking at the crests of the waves. Billy wonders what drowning would feel like. He doesn’t think it could be much worse than the way he’s feeling right now. In fact, it would probably feel the same—gasping for air and choking on his fear and struggling to kick to the surface, but never quite getting there. Billy is already drowning.

Before he really knows what he is doing, before he even really thinks about it, Billy is toeing his dress shoes off and throwing a leg over the railing. He’s shaking as he swings the other leg over, turning so that his back is to the railing and he’s staring out at the ocean, closing his eyes as the chilly wind bites at the tips of his ears.

He leans out over the water, looking straight down at the rough waves crashing against the stern, and feels a rush of control—of his own life, of his own future, of his own actions. It’s been an awfully long time, he realizes, since he’s felt anything like this.

Then, a voice says, “Please don’t.”

Billy starts, almost losing his grip, and cranes his neck over his shoulder, his eyes wide. There’s a man—he looks like he’s probably about Billy’s own age and is blonde-haired, blue-eyed and absolutely beautiful—standing a few paces back from the railing, his eyebrows drawn together concernedly.

“Stay back, _please_ ,” Billy says, his voice is desperate and pleading, but the man takes another small, hesitant step forward and reaches out a hand.

“Let me help you,” he says, taking another cautious step. “Just give me your hand, okay?”

“No! Just _leave_ , just leave, please.” Even to his own ears, Billy sounds hysterical and foolish, but if he goes back, if he lets this stranger pull him back over the railing, he knows he’s always going to wonder how much better off he would have been if he’d just let go.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” the man says slowly as he takes another few steps until he’s close enough to touch and he sheds his jacket, tossing it behind him carelessly. “And, if you jump, I’ll have to go in after you.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Billy chokes on something that might be a laugh.

The man shrugs. “You jump, I jump. That’s the way it’s gotta be. So, really, I’m hoping you’ll give me your hand and let me pull you back over.”

There’s a long moment where Billy isn’t sure what he’s going to do. Then, he slowly reaches over, still shaking, and lets the stranger take hold of his hand.

The man grins, his cheeks dimpling, and it reminds Billy of the sun—bright and warm and lovely—and Billy thinks that it is probably the most amazing smile he’s ever seen. “Hi,” the man says, then, and it almost manages to make Billy smile, too. “I’m Teddy Altman.”

Billy does smile then, although it probably comes across as more of a grimace. “Billy Kaplan.”

“Nice to meet you, Billy. Ready?” he asks. Once Billy’s nodded, Teddy hauls him back over the railing. Billy’s still freezing, unstable and shaking, though, so, once he’s over the rail, they both fall to the ground in an undignified heap of limbs.

Of course, it’s then that Billy’s mother and Mr. Bishop walk onto the deck, with Kate trailing not far behind.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mr. Bishop asks and Teddy pushes himself to his feet. Mr. Bishop looks between then for a moment before he shouts for someone to fetch the Master-at-arms.

It’s only once someone starts towards Teddy with handcuffs that Billy scrambles to his feet, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, this is—no, he wasn’t attacking me. He saved my life!” he blurts before realizing that he’s going to have to explain why he was hanging off the back of the ship. “It—it was an accident. I slipped and—I was leaning over to look at the water and I slipped. Teddy pulled me back before I fell. It was an accident.”

When the Master-at-arms looks to Teddy for his assurance, he only hesitates a second before nodding. The man slaps him on the back, then, and smiles. “Good on you, boy.”

It’s only when Mr. Bishop goes to pay Teddy for his heroics that Kate whirls around. “Father, I hardly think twenty dollars is the proper way to thank Mr. Altman for saving Billy’s life,” she says, voice harsh. Then, she smiles at Teddy, immediately shedding her fierce demeanor. “Come to dinner with us tomorrow. I would love to learn more about the man who saved my fiancé’s life.”

Billy doesn’t even get the chance to thank Teddy for pulling him back over, but he does manage to catch his eye and they share a quick smile before Billy is herded back to his quarters. Every dream that Billy has that night is centered around Teddy’s smile.

* * *

 

“You don’t understand, America,” Teddy insists as he starts his third attempt at sketching the small smile Billy had given him before he’d left. “He’s just… he’s different.”

“ _Different_? C’mon, Altman, don’t kid yourself. He’s a spoiled rich brat, like all the rest of ‘em,” America says before she takes a long drag from her cigarette.

“You’re wrong,” is all he says before he goes back to his sketch.

He draws Billy four more times that day and, then, spends an hour pacing the length of his room because he’s just realized that none of his clothes are anywhere near nice enough to wear to dinner. That’s when Billy’s fiancée shows up like a guardian angel.

He gapes at her when he sees her standing in his doorway—because she’s _Katherine Bishop_ and she’s so rich that she probably bathes in money and she looks entirely out of place in third-class, with her sparkling dress and the diamond pendant settled in the hollow of her throat. She has to push past him into the room because he’s just standing there like an idiot, rather than stepping aside to allow her past.

Then, she lays the suit down on his bed and smirks up at him. “I thought you might need something to wear,” she says and then she looks very pointedly at the shirt he’s wearing, which is the very same he’d been wearing the night before. “Evidently, I was correct.” While he changes into the suit she’s brought—because Kate insists that he try it on, to be certain it fits—Kate begins flipping through his sketches before he can stop her. “These are really very good,” she tells him, an appreciative note in her voice. She pages through a few sketches of Billy while Teddy’s face steadily grows redder and redder by the second before she smiles, looking pleased. “You capture his likeness well,” she compliments before closing the sketchbook and standing to leave. “I’ll see you this evening, Teddy.” And then she sweeps out of the room.

Teddy ends up fleeing once America arrives back to their room and dissolves into a fit of laughter when she sees him taking off the suit. “You know I love you, Ted, but—” She can’t finish the sentence without bursting into hooting laughter again. Teddy gives her the stink eye before leaving his suit nicely folded on his bed and heading up to the deck.

He’s rounding a corner when he runs right into Billy, who looks up and smiles brightly. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says and then his cheeks color in an incredibly endearing way. “I mean, could we talk?”

They’ve been strolling around the upper deck for a while, making small talk about stupid things like the weather, when Billy blurts, “Thank you. For saving my life. And also for… keeping quiet about the circumstances. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Teddy says finally, with a reassuring sort of look. “It’s—I mean, it’s really no one’s business if you don’t want them to know.”

Billy lets out a breath and smiles gratefully before stopping to peer over the horizon, where the sun is just beginning to lower in the sky. “You must think so low of me,” he says after a moment. “I’ve got everything and I was just going to throw it all away.”

Teddy shakes his head quickly. “No. No, I don’t. I think—I think that everyone has problems. Even rich guys like you.” He nudges Billy in a way that makes it clear that he’s teasing. There’s a long pause before he says, “I just—I think it’s sad that you felt like that was the only way out.”

“It’s—I feel like my whole life is being played out by someone else and I’m just a pawn in their games. I feel trapped, like I’m just—just stuck. Like I’ve stopped moving forward and now everything is happening in reverse and no one is even stopping to ask if any of it is what I wanted.” Billy stops and huffs, running a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m burdening you with my troubles, and I hardly even know you.”

Teddy smiles then. “Well, there’s not much to know, really. Grew up in New York with my mother. When she died, I took off for Europe. And now I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” says Billy earnestly. “About your mother, I mean.”

Teddy just nods, his smile fading a bit, and stares out at the water.

“I can’t even swim,” Billy tells him suddenly. Once again, his cheeks flush and Teddy finds himself mesmerized by the contrast of the deep red against Billy’s pale skin.

“I’ll teach you,” Teddy answers firmly. “Once we dock in New York, I mean. I’ll teach you to swim.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, just beams up at Teddy with a grin so wide that it’s contagious. That’s when the trumpet plays a quick tune, announcing dinner, and Billy excuses himself to get ready. Teddy watches him leave before realizing that he also has to change and scrambling back to his room.

* * *

 

Billy is waiting at the bottom of the staircase for Kate when Teddy walks through the doors, looking vaguely uncomfortable, but incredibly handsome in a well-fitting suit with his hair slicked back. His eyes look even bluer than Billy remembers them and he has to remind himself to breathe as Teddy descends the stairs.

“You clean up nicely,” says Billy with a smile that Teddy returns.

“You should really be thanking your—thanking Kate. Wasn’t for her, I probably would’ve shown up in the same shirt I’ve been wearing for the past two days,” Teddy answers with a grin.

“Talking about me, boys?” Kate’s voice comes from the top of the stairs. She looks stunning, even more so than usual, in a lovely purple beaded gown that shimmers like light hitting water every time she moves and Billy thinks that if he wasn’t so far gone for Teddy, he would almost be able to fall in love with her. She walks over, ruffling Billy’s hair and planting a soft kiss on Teddy’s cheek before she hooks her arms through theirs. “Care to escort a lady to dinner?”

Billy and Kate—mostly Kate, actually, because she has so much blackmail material that she could make any one of the powerful, wealthy business men in the room cry—fill him in on the latest scandals as they approach the table. Kate introduces Teddy, then, and he receives a half-hearted welcome, which, honestly, is better than Billy was expecting it to be.

The conversation at the table is mostly about business or the ship, dull topics that put Billy to sleep, until Kate veers to topic to Teddy and Billy perks up.

“Teddy is an artist, did you know?” Kate says, flashing a winning smile at Teddy. “A very talented artist.”

“Really?” asks Billy and he leans forward, moving to prop his elbows up on the table, but stopping himself at the last second and settling his hands in his lap instead when his mother shoots him a look.

“Yeah, well. I mean, I’m not that good, honestly, but…” Teddy trails off and ducks his head bashfully at Billy’s grin.

“He’s only being humble, Billy,” Kate assures, her lips twitching in amusement as she looks between Billy and Teddy. “He’s really quite good.” Then she turns to Teddy and reaches across the table to put her hand on his arm. “Billy has always been very appreciative of good art.” She’s smirking as she says this and it obviously has some sort of double meaning to Teddy, as his cheeks go a bit pink, but Billy isn’t entirely sure of what it is, so he ignores it and nods enthusiastically.

“You’ll have to show me some of your work, sometime,” he tells Teddy with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah. I mean, I’d like that,” Teddy answers.

The remainder of the meal goes off without a hitch, for the most part, although Teddy looks lost once he sees the number of utensils he’s been given. However, he picks it up very quickly and just as easily manages to brush off the occasional sour remark on his social standing with a smile, although Billy’s fist clenches under the table at every comment.

Finally, Mr. Bishop gets to his feet announcing that the men are off for brandy in the smoking room. An invitation is extended to Teddy, but he declines. “I’m sure everyone is missing me down in third-class, so, if you’ll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be heading back now.”

Billy can’t stop the pang of disappointment he feels at the statement and, when Mr. Bishop asks if he will be joining them, he answers with, “No, I think not. I’m not feeling all that well, honestly.” He sees Kate roll her eyes at that because, as usual, she’s able to see right through his lies.

His mother sends him off with a, “Get some rest, dear,” and Billy leaves, only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled aside by a grinning Teddy after he’s exited the hall.

“You ever wondered what a real party’s like?” Teddy asks. Billy finds himself smiling back at him and, then, he allows Teddy pull him down a few flights of stairs, twisting around corners, through dark hallways that Billy doesn’t think they’re supposed to be using, before he pushes through a door and Billy is breathless with laughter as Teddy pulls him inside. People are laughing and dancing and drinking and it’s no fancy banquet, but Billy thinks it might be the most amazing party he’s ever seen.

* * *

 

“Thought you weren’t gonna make it, Altman,” says America as she swaggers over and throws an arm around Teddy’s shoulder, lips pulled into an easy grin.

Teddy puts on a wounded face. “I _told_ you I’d be here and I am nothing if not a man of my word. I did bring a friend, though,” he says as he pulls Billy forward. “America, this is Billy Kaplan. Billy, meet America Chavez.”

Billy smiles hesitantly, but America just scrutinizes him for a few long moments before she nods, which Teddy takes as her approval. “Well, Billy, I’m gonna steal your boy here for a quick dance, but I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece,” she says with a wicked glint in her eye before grabbing Teddy by the wrist and hauling him out onto the dance floor.

Teddy manages to flash Billy a comically terrified expression, which makes Billy laugh, before he’s swallowed by the crowd.

Two songs later, Teddy finally manages to break free and finds Billy grinning at him with a glass clutched in his hand. Over the music, Billy says, “This is…”

“Ridiculous?” Teddy supplies with a laugh.

Billy shakes his head and looks around, wide-eyed. “Amazing. This is _amazing_.”

A new song starts up. Teddy sheds his jacket, tossing it over a chair and hoping Kate won’t kill him if he ruins it, and grabs Billy’s hand. “Dance with me,” he says, smiling hugely.

“I don’t—I don’t know this dance,” Billy protests as Teddy drags him out onto the floor.

“Neither do I,” Teddy shouts back, which makes Billy throw his head back and laugh before stepping closer to Teddy, clutching to his shoulders as they jump and spin through the crowd in some kind of bastardized waltz. They eventually hit a wall, because neither of them is watching where they’re going, and fall back against it, grinning, to watch America pull a pretty blonde girl up on top of a table and start to dance, whooping she does a high kick and spins the girl around.

Teddy watches Billy’s face the whole night because his smile, his awe, his laughter is captivating and beautiful and Teddy hasn’t ever seen anything like it before.

* * *

 

“Have a late night, did you, son?” Mr. Bishop asks Billy the next morning when he appears, bleary-eyed and yawning, at breakfast.

Billy tenses up and stammers something about having trouble sleeping, praying that Mr. Bishop will let it go.

He doesn’t.

Mr. Bishop nods. “Yes, well, I do imagine running around below deck with that crowd of miscreants was rather exhausting.” He stares at Billy for a long moment and Billy wants to shrink back into his chair, but he doesn’t, mostly because Kate would have his ass if he didn’t stand up to her father, but also because he doesn’t think that Teddy should ever be something he feels ashamed of. “It won’t happen again, William,” Mr. Bishop tells him finally before he stands up to leave.

Once he’s gone, Billy falls back into his seat and listens to his heart pounding in his ears.

* * *

 

It is after Kate has left mass that morning that she latches onto Billy’s arm and hisses, “What the hell did my father say to you this morning?” When he tries to appear confused, she scoffs, loud enough for several of the people around them to look at her oddly. “Don’t treat me like a fool, William Kaplan.”

“It was nothing,” he tries to say, but she arches her brows and sets her jaw determinedly. He caves. “He just—he found out that I was with Teddy last night and he was upset.  He must have thought I was going to besmirch your reputation or—or something.”

Kate’s nails dig into his arm and her face lights up. “You were _with_ Teddy last night?” she whispers gleefully.

Billy gapes at her then and shakes his head, cheeks coloring. “Kate!” he exclaims loudly before lowering his voice when he realizes where they are. “Not—not like that! I went to a party with him. We just danced.”

She looks disappointed, but also a bit furious. “I’m going to kill my father. He had no right to—”

Billy catches her hand and squeezes it. “It’s fine, Kate. I just—I won’t see Teddy anymore.” His voice sounds hollow to his own ears, so he knows that Kate catches it.

“Billy, I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,” she tells him with a sad smile. “You can’t let it go on account of my father.”

“Either way, it could never work out between Teddy and I.” Billy shrugs despondently. “We’re too different.”

“Since when have you cared about that?” Kate asks, raising her voice. “Please. I want you to be happy, my father’s wishes be damned.”

Billy blows out a breath through his nose and runs his free hand through his hair before gesturing wildly. “It’s just—it’s not that easy! I have responsibilities, Katie. My mother, your father, they have expectations.” He lets his head fall over to rest his cheek on her hair and he closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s not that easy.”

* * *

 

It’s early in the morning when Kate Bishop throws Teddy’s door open and starts talking at him in this fast-paced, clipped tone that almost makes Teddy fear for his life.

“You need to talk to him. He is _miserable_ and I don’t know which one of you to beat the hell out of first, you—you _idiots_ ,” she’s ranting as Teddy sits up in his bed, hair sticking up at all angles, and blinks at her in confusion. He thinks it must be a miracle that she hasn’t woken America yet.

“What?” he asks finally.

She apparently takes pity on him because sits at the foot of his bunk and rests a hand on his leg comfortingly before she launches into an explanation.

“And Billy has gotten it in that precious little head of his that he’s not allowed to be happy. Then, of course, my father made it worse and, now, Billy’s sulking around like a child,” she finishes before heaving a sigh and fixing Teddy with a meaningful look. “I want what’s best for him, Teddy. He deserves that much.”

She doesn’t say it aloud, but Teddy catches the implication that _he_ is what Kate believes is best for Billy and that alone leaves his head spinning.

“Please speak to him,” she says before patting his leg and standing to leave.

“Okay,” Teddy finds himself saying. “I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Teddy tells Billy pointedly after pulling him aside while he was leaving for dinner. When Billy starts spluttering explanations, Teddy holds a hand up to stop him. “Kate told me why.”

Billy clenches his jaw, then, because he _told her_ he couldn’t see Teddy anymore, how could she go behind his back like that?

“Don’t be upset with her, though,” Teddy adds once he sees Billy’s expression. “You’re lucky you have someone like Kate looking out for you.” He sounds a little longing and that’s when Billy remembers that Teddy really doesn’t have anyone, other than America, who Billy thinks seems well-intentioned, but is clearly not one for feelings.

“I know,” Billy says finally. “And, Teddy, I am so, so sorry, but I can’t see you.” He moves to leave, but Teddy grabs his hand and Billy stops because the feeling of Teddy’s hand in his sends what feel like an electric current through his entire body, igniting his every sense and suddenly he feels hyper-aware of everything. 

“Come with me. _Please_ ,” Teddy says and Billy can only nod because he feels hypnotized by the color of Teddy’s eyes and the dusty pink of his lips.

Teddy leads him to the very front of the ship, right up to the rails at its nose. Then he stops and smiles. “Close your eyes, alright?” Billy does and he lets Teddy help step him up onto the rails, feels his hand warm on his back and holding him steady. “Open them.”

Billy lets out a whoop of laughter when he does, eyes wide as he takes in the wind the waves, the setting sun. He looks over at Teddy, who has climbed up onto the rails beside him and is grinning, and grabs his hand. This, he decides, is what freedom feels like. Freedom feels like flying. Freedom feels like wind in his hair and the sunset over the ocean and Teddy’s smile. He laughs again and throws his free hand into the air.

“This is incredible!” he shouts and then one of them, he’s not sure which, surges towards the other and Teddy’s lips are on his and Billy is certain he has never felt anything like this before in his life.

* * *

 

They’re both laughing as Billy fumbles with the door to his cabin before he finally manages to get it open. “You never did show me any of your drawings, you know,” Billy says once they’re inside.

Teddy looks a little embarrassed, but he smiles. “Oh, you—you want to see them?” he asks and pulls the sketchbook from inside his jacket. Billy moves in closer when he flips it open.

“ _God_ , Kate wasn’t kidding,” Billy mumbles, his voice hushed and eyes wide. “You’re amazing, Teddy.” Teddy replays those words a few times in his head and finds himself grinning as he watches Billy go through his sketches. Billy turns a page over and blinks at Teddy owlishly when he sees the first sketch of himself. Teddy’s face goes red while Billy flips through the next few—all of him—quietly, his chin resting on his hand. “I want you to draw me,” he says suddenly.

Teddy smiles a little bit, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment, and gestures wordlessly at the portrait Billy is looking at.

Billy shakes his head. “No, I mean, I want to pose for a drawing.”

“Oh.” Then, Teddy’s smile grows and he nods. “Yeah, alright.”

Billy grins and leans over to kiss Teddy, slow and soft, before he heads into the other room with a promise of being back in a moment.

Teddy’s blue eyes watch Billy leave and then he begins leafing through the papers in his book to find a blank sheet and starts sharpening his charcoals. He pulls the couch forward and centers it in front of the table he has claimed as his workspace, rearranging the pillows until they look right.

That’s when Billy walks back in, wearing nothing but a sheer, deep blue robe, and Teddy almost swallows his tongue. Billy’s cheeks are flushed and he’s smiling timidly, but very resolutely avoiding eye contact. “Is this alright?” he asks, finally looking at Teddy.

Feeling lightheaded, Teddy reminds himself to breathe and nods before sitting down. “Just, uh, just lay down over on the—the couch.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Billy bites back a grin before he unties the belt keeping the robe closed and slips it off. Everything about him is beautiful, Teddy thinks, as Billy drapes himself across the couch, all pale skin and dark hair and long, long legs.

It is only once the room starts spinning that Teddy realizes he’s forgotten to breathe again and he takes in a long, shaky breath before he starts tracing the angle of Billy’s jaw.

Billy begins snickering and pulling silly faces as Teddy is about halfway through.

“Stop laughing,” Teddy tells him with a grin of his own.

Billy purses his lips in an effort to fight off the smile, but he can’t quite manage it. “I’m sorry, you just—you look adorable. You’ve got this crease right between your eyebrows. And I believe you’re blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. It’s sort of endearing, actually.”

His words only make Teddy’s face flush darker as he drags the charcoal down the paper, sketching the curves of Billy’s legs.

They’re both silent for a long while and, even when he’s looking down at the paper, Teddy can feel Billy’s eyes on him. Finally, when Billy starts fidgeting, Teddy grins at him and breaks the silence. “Just keep still. I’m almost done,” he says and feels surprised by the roughness of his own voice.

Billy just nods and takes a deep breath before relaxing back into the couch until Teddy announces that he’s finished. Billy tugs the robe back on before he walks over to see the finished piece, which Teddy is dating _April 14, 1912_ , and he grins before tipping Teddy’s chin up and kissing him.

* * *

 

“Is your room always this hot?” Teddy asks Billy when he reenters the sitting room, fully clothed.

Billy laughs. “No, I think it might just be you,” he answers before pressing his lips to Teddy’s jawline.

That’s when there’s a pounding on the door and a deep voice that Billy thinks is Mr. Bishop’s valet shouts, “Mr. Kaplan, are you in there?”

Eyes comically, wide, Billy hisses, “Shit!” Then he bites down on his lips to keep from laughing while he yanks Teddy through a door and shuts it behind them just as the valet is opening the other door. “Come on,” Billy murmurs, his lips so close to Teddy’s ear that they’re almost touching, and he takes Teddy’s hand to pull him out into the hallway.

“Run!” Teddy says, after lapsing into a fit of giggles when the valet bursts out into the corridor, and then he takes off at a dead sprint, tugging Billy along behind him. They round a corner, running straight into the lift, and Billy manages to gasp, “Down! Take us down!” through his laughter.

The second the gates open, they’re dashing down the hall, hands still clasped when they finally duck inside of a doorway and Billy puts his hand over Teddy’s mouth when he tries to say something. Someone runs past the door and, once the sound of their footfalls has disappeared, both boys burst into laughter. It’s the best kind of laughter, where you end up breathless and gasping for air and your sides hurt and tears start to well in your eyes, and Billy loves it.

“This way, come on,” Billy says once they’ve recovered, although a grin is still splitting his face and Teddy is sporting a matching smile. He leads him down a set of stairs that open up to a massive storage room below deck, filled with crates and cobwebs, mostly, but in the middle of it all there is a beautiful Renault Towncar, burgundy red with golden plating.

Billy bounds up to it and opens the door. “After you, good sir,” he says in an incredibly phony English accent that makes Teddy laugh as he clambers into the spacious backseat and then offers his hand to Billy, who doesn’t need it, but takes it anyway. He falls, purposefully, across Teddy’s lap and grins up at him.

Teddy leans down and Billy surges up and their lips meet somewhere in the middle. The kiss is passion and exhilaration that leaves them both panting and flushed as Billy makes quick work of Teddy’s shirt, discarding it on the carpeted floor of the car. He meets Teddy’s lips again and he can feel Teddy’s heartbeat beneath the palm of his hand, beating hard and strong and fast in his chest.

Teddy’s fingers fumble with the first few buttons of Billy’s shirt and Billy grins against Teddy’s lips when he gives up on unbuttoning it and just tugs it over Billy’s head. Then, it’s as if Teddy’s fingertips are setting his skin alight, leaving burning trails in their wake as they skate along the expanse of Billy’s stomach, and Billy’s mouth is trailing down Teddy’s neck, kissing his way to Teddy’s collarbone.

Teddy makes a whining noise in his throat and pulls Billy up to meet his lips again, his tongue sliding across Billy’s bottom lip before he captures it between his own. Billy feels the gentle scrape of Teddy’s teeth and he pushes closer—he wants to be closer, closer, closer. Teddy huffs a laugh and Billy feels the warmth of Teddy’s breath on his skin—warm like the sun, a smile like the sun, _Teddy_ is like the sun, Billy decides.

Billy feels like he is drowning again, but this time it isn’t pain, it isn’t anxiety, it isn’t fear that he is drowning in, it’s Teddy and the way he smells and the way his skin tastes and the blue of his eyes. This time, Billy doesn’t mind drowning.

* * *

 

Teddy is still breathing heavy after they’ve both finished and are lying across the seats of the car, with Teddy’s head resting on Billy’s chest, listening to his heart. They’re both glistening with sweat, sticking to the seats of the car, but Teddy certainly doesn’t care and it appears to him that Billy doesn’t, either.

“Don’t leave,” Billy mumbles, then, and Teddy looks up at him from under his lashes, grinning stupidly.

“You’re stuck with me, Kaplan,” Teddy promises before he props himself up on his elbows and kisses Billy once more, languid and soft, like they have all the time in the world—like this, too, is a promise.

Billy is the one who breaks the kiss. “We really ought to get out of here before someone comes looking for us,” he says forlornly, like there is nothing in the world that he regrets more than having to leave this car.

The disappointment is contagious and Teddy sighs before leaning in to drop a kiss on Billy’s forehead. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

With a groan, Billy lets his head fall back. “I was hoping you would disagree,” he tells Teddy, but pushes himself into a sitting position and begins to pull his trousers on, nonetheless.

Teddy laughs and begins to dress, pulling his shirt over her head and tugging it down when it sticks to his damp skin. Then, he does up the buttons on Billy’s shirt, as Billy’s hands are too busy finger-combing through his own hair in an attempt to make himself look presentable.

After he’s fixed Billy’s collar, they smile at each other and Teddy runs the pad of his thumb over Billy’s cheek. Teddy wonders what it would feel like to wake up next to Billy in the morning—what it would be like to exchange sleepy smiles and watch Billy stretch before he swings his legs over the side of the bed. More than anything, he thinks he would like to find out.

* * *

 

“When the ship docks in New York,” Billy begins once they’ve stopped running and laughing long enough to catch their breath, “I’m getting off with you. We can move to—to _wherever_ , it doesn’t matter, and you can teach me how to swim.”

Teddy’s smile is huge and overwhelmingly beautiful. “You’re insane,” he says, like it’s a compliment, like it’s the best thing in the world, and Billy finds himself beaming back at Teddy before he puts his hands on either side of Teddy’s face, kissing him hard, hard, _hard_.

And that’s when the entire ship shudders. They both jump and Billy looks around wildly before shoving Teddy backwards just as a massive chunk of ice hits the deck right where they’d been standing, fragmenting into hundreds of thousands of shards on impact. Billy’s eyes are huge as the iceberg passes and he runs to the rail to watch it scraping and bumping against the side of the ship.

Teddy comes up beside him, their shoulders brushing. His brow is furrowed, his expression apprehensive. “That was awfully close, wasn’t it?”

Billy nods, feeling unease settle in his stomach. He’s heard all the talk—heard how _Titanic_ is unsinkable. The finest ship ever built. He only hopes that they’re right.

* * *

 

A few members of the crew pass them as Teddy and Billy are climbing the stairs to the upper deck, talking in hushed tones, but Teddy hears the word _flooded_ and he pales.

“This sounds really bad,” he says after a long moment.

Billy nods with wide eyes. “Kate—I need to tell Kate. And my mother.”

As they approach Billy’s cabin—it still feels strange to Teddy, standing on expensive carpet, under a crystal chandelier, wearing dirty clothes and with hardly a penny to his name—Teddy loosens his grip on Billy’s hand. It’s just to give him an out, just in case he doesn’t want to be seen holding the hand of a _boy_ , and one from from third-class, nonetheless—but Billy only tightens his grasp and interlocks their fingers, smiling reassuringly. Teddy feels flooded by warmth and he almost smiles until he remembers where they are and what’s happening.

“Mister Kaplan,” says the valet who had been chasing them earlier, his tone snide and irate, “your mother has been frantic. And I feel certain that Miss Katherine will be quite relieved to you hear of your return, as well.”

Billy just nods and shrinks into himself a bit, which makes Teddy frown. He rubs his thumb over Billy’s knuckles comfortingly and is rewarded with a small, but genuine smile.

The second they cross into the room, Kate is flinging her arms around Billy before stepping back to hit him hard in the arm. And then she hugs him again. “I’m glad you’re alright.” Her eyes flicker down to their linked hands and her lips twist into a smirk. “Or better than alright, I suppose.” Billy flushes. Kate winks at Teddy and he hides his laughter with a cough.

“Search the boy!” Mr. Bishop’s voice carries over and, then, someone is tugging Teddy’s jacket off and fishing through his pockets, despite his protests. “He’s got it somewhere, I’m certain.”

Kate whips around with fire in her eyes and levels her father with a glare. “This is ridiculous, father! I hardly think that Teddy stole my necklace,” she hisses, her fists clenched at her sides.

One of the men searching Teddy’s jacket asks, “Is this it, sir?” and holds up a diamond necklace that Teddy thinks he remembers seeing around Kate’s neck at dinner and is probably worth more than Teddy’s life. He gapes.

“Arrest him!” orders Mr. Bishop.

Someone is putting handcuffs on Teddy, but he’s only looking at Billy and shaking his head, eyes wide. “I wouldn’t. You _know_ I wouldn’t, Billy.”

Billy stares for a moment before he snaps out of it. “I believe you,” he says firmly. “I believe you.”

Then, they’re roughly pushing Teddy out the door and down the hall and all he can hear is Billy’s protests behind him.

* * *

 

Billy tries to follow when Teddy is shoved out of the room, but his mother grabs him by the wrist. He tries to argue after that, insisting that there’s been some kind of mistake, but it quickly spirals into Kate and Mr. Bishop shouting until they are both red in the face and Billy is forgotten.

"You planted that necklace, didn't you?" Kate is shrieking and Billy realizes that, yes, that has to be what happened. "My  _God_ , that is just like you!"

They’re still screaming when a crew member knocks on the door and then swings it open. “Lifebelts on, if you will! Captain’s orders!” the man says and both Kate and her father swivel towards him as if they are going to start yelling at him, as well, but his words actually seem to mollify them.

Billy helps his mother with her lifebelt before he slips his own over his head and tightens the straps. As they make their way into the hall, Billy chews on his lower lips anxiously, his thoughts on Teddy, who is locked up somewhere below deck.

Kate, who has a tight grip on Billy’s arm, is shaking her head. “No one knows what the hell is going on,” she mutters and then she lurches forward, grabbing a man’s shoulder. “Mr. Andrews. What’s happened?”

Mr. Andrews looks hesitant to tell her, but finally says, “The ship will sink. In an hour, two at the most.”

Kate’s grasp on Billy’s arm tightens. “And you’re certain?” she hisses.

The man gives a jerking nod. “Only tell who you must, though, Miss Bishop. Don’t spread panic.” He pauses. “And don’t wait for a lifeboat, dear.” There is something pointed in his tone that Billy doesn’t understand, but it’s clear the Kate does, as her jaw clenches and she nods.

“Of course,” says Kate, her voice weak and entirely lacking her usual bravado. Then, she sits down and her head drops into her hands. Billy sits beside her, wishing he could comfort her and tell her they would be fine, but he’s just as terrified as she is. “Mr. Andrews told me something, the other day,” Kate says, “about the lifeboats.” She pauses and lowers her voice. “Billy, there are only enough lifeboats for half the people on this ship.” Her head drops back into her hands and her fingers twist into her hair in frustration.

They’re helpless, Billy realizes. Everyone on the ship is at its mercy, sitting around like lambs headed off to the slaughter. People like Kate, strong and determined and incredible, aren’t made for situations like this—aren’t made for problems they can’t fix or for monsters they can’t fight.

He can’t help but thinking that maybe he _is_ made for situations like this—he’s gotten so used to drowning that even the panic clawing at his mind now isn’t enough to pull him under.

But an image appears in his mind, then, of sweet, bright Teddy—Teddy, who is like the sun. Teddy, who, like Kate, is too resilient, too radiant to die here—floating, cold and pale in the unforgiving freezing water of the Atlantic and Billy jolts to his feet. “I’m sorry, I just—Teddy.” Kate’s eyes soften. Billy drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, Katie,” he tells her, just in case he’s never going to see her again, and then he takes off for the elevator.

* * *

 

The compartment Teddy is locked in is already submerged—he can no longer see any light through the porthole, nothing but the dark, dark water—and it has flooded up to his knees when he hears Billy yelling for him.

“Billy?” He hears his name again and he shouts, “Billy! I’m here! I’m in here!”

Then, the door opens and Billy wades through the water. His hair is a mess and there are dark circles beneath his eyes and Teddy doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look so beautiful.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have ever let them arrest you, I—” The rest of his sentence is cut off when he throws his arms around Teddy’s neck and presses their lips together in a fast, desperate kiss.

“It’s okay, Billy, it’s okay. Just—just find a spare key, alright? It’s, uh, it’s small and silver.”

Billy nods and trudges through the still raising water to get to the key cabinet. He scans the shelves, running his hands over the rows and knocking keys from their hooks, before shaking his head. “They’re all brass,” he says before he pulls a drawer out and rummages through it, his hands starting to shake from either the cold or nerves or possibly both. “This is no good, either.”

“Okay, okay.” Teddy’s mind is running a mile a minute. “Find something to—”

“Wait!” Billy interrupts, throwing a handful of paper and pens out of a drawer. “I think I’ve got it.” He holds up a little silver key and, if Teddy wasn’t handcuffed to a pipe, he would have kissed him.

“Yes, yes! That’s it,” Teddy says and Billy wades back over to him. His hands are shaking and it takes him a few tries to fit the key into the keyhole, but he manages it eventually. Once Teddy’s hands are free, he whoops with joy and wraps Billy in a hug.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Billy tells him. He’s right, Teddy realizes—the water is lapping at his upper thighs now and it’s so cold that he’s actually lost feeling in his feet, for the most part. They’ll drown if they don’t get to the upper deck.

The water is up to Teddy’s waist by the time they find a flight of stairs and burst through a door onto a lower class deck, filled with panicking people and noise.

“Shit, _shit_ , Teddy, is that you?” Teddy laughs, and it sounds borderline hysterical, just before America crashes into him and squeezes him tightly. “Goddamn it, I was hoping you were up there, waiting for a boat.”

Teddy searches for something to say, but all he manages is, “I got arrested.”

“It’s a long story,” Billy adds. Then, he casts a wary glace at a crowded staircase, where the gates are shut tight. “Why aren’t they letting anyone out?”

America just shakes her head. “I don’t know, but we’ll die down here if they don’t open those damn gates.” She raises her voice towards the end of the sentence, so that it carries over the panicked chatter of the crowd.

“Let’s go this way, then,” Teddy says, grasping Billy’s hand tight and grabbing America’s wrist with his other hand. “Come on, this way.” He tugs them around a corner and up another flight of stairs.

“Go back to the main stairwell,” a man is repeating on the other side of the gates.

“Open the gates!” shouts America, slamming her fist against the bars, rattling them loud enough to startle the crew members on the other side.

“Miss, step away from the gates!” says the man, sounding flustered—he’s obviously unused to dealing with someone as unrelenting as America is, thinks Teddy drily.

She growls in frustration and kicks out at the gates before whirling around. Her gaze locks on something behind Teddy and he follows her gaze to a wooden bench. Their eyes meet and they both nod, gripping a side of the bench in an attempt to pry it from the floor.

“Put that down!” the man is shouting.

Wood cracks as one side disconnects from the ground and, after one more hard yank from America, the other side detaches, as well.

“Move aside, move aside!” Billy’s saying as he tries to clear a path for them, pulling a young girl out of their way, and Teddy feels an oddly timed surge of affection.

Then, America nods at him and they ram the bench into the gates. The hinges screech upon impact. They strike again and the gates are ripped free entirely, clattering to the ground. The entire crowd starts shoving to get through as soon as it’s cleared and Teddy very nearly loses his grip on Billy’s hand in the rush to get up the stairs.

“Come on, move, Altman, I’m right behind you,” America says as they fight their way through masses to get to the upper deck.

They make it eventually, but most of the lifeboats have already gone by then and the ones that remain are still loading women and children only.

“Ma’am,” says a man who is helping to load the boats, extending a hand to America.

She hesitates and looks back at Teddy, who shakes his head. He grabs her by the shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “Go. I’ll be fine, America, I promise.”

“You damn well better be, Ted,” she says, clenching her jaw before she turns and climbs into the lifeboat.

* * *

 

“There’s gotta be something on the other side of the ship,” Teddy is telling him, but Billy can hardly hear the words. He’s drowning again and it’s not good drowning, it’s the horrible bad terrible kind—the kind that he felt that first night, when Teddy saved his life, where his chest seizes in panic and he’s fighting for every breath he takes—yet, it lends him a strange sort of lucidity.

Billy stops, tugging Teddy to a stop with him, and he takes Teddy’s face in his hands and he kisses him once, twice, three times. “The ship is sinking too fast,” he says between kisses. “We’ll never make it to a lifeboat.”

“I know, I know,” Teddy mumbles, tipping his head forward to rest his forehead against Billy’s. “We need to get to the back of the ship.”

Billy nods. “Give me your hand,” he says, echoing Teddy on that first night.

Teddy smiles and does so, wrapping his steady hand around Billy’s shaking one before they start shoving their way to the back of the ship.

It’s almost too much to watch, too much to deal with the sounds of children crying and the sight of still bodies bobbing in the water, but Teddy is holding onto him and Billy thinks that if anyone in the world deserves to live, it’s Teddy, so he keeps moving, pushing through the panicking masses.

They reach the back railing of the ship and Billy clings to it with numb fingers.

“This is just like the day we met,” Billy says, his voice trembling.

Teddy chokes on a bark of laughter just as the ship’s power goes and it starts cracking down the middle before it breaks in half almost completely. The front half is sucked under the surface of the crashing waves and the other half is falling, horizontal again, and Billy’s stomach leaps into his throat.

Then, the stern is rising up, much, much quicker this time, and Billy just barely has time to clamber over the railing, bracing himself against it, before it’s entirely vertical. The air is field with screams and the creaking of the ship as it’s pulled under and the sound of bodies hitting the water every time someone loses their grip.

“Billy, Billy, look at me, okay?” Teddy says, voice strained and urgent, and Billy does. “When the ship goes down, it’s gonna pull you under. But you can’t panic, alright, just kick as hard as you can for the surface.”

Billy’s gasping and terrified, but he nods. “God,” he chokes out and Teddy’s grip on his hand tightens, “this is a terrible time to need swimming lessons.”

“You’ll be fine,” Teddy tells him firmly and he sounds so sure that Billy could almost believe him. “Take a deep breath when I say so. And don’t let go of my hand.”

Water is climbing, swallowing the ship whole, and Billy sees the girl America had danced with at the party—it feels so long ago, like another lifetime—go under, her scream cutting off as she inhales a mouthful of saltwater. She doesn’t come back up.

“Ready?” Teddy shouts and Billy nods. “Now!”

Billy sucks in a breath just before he’s dragged beneath the surface and the freezing water feels like knives stabbing into every inch of his body. The water is pressing in on him and the ship is drawing everything down with it, but Billy forgets how to move until he feels Teddy kicking for the surface. His lifebelt is also fighting the pull of the depths, making it easier for Teddy, who is an incredibly strong swimmer, Billy is realizing, to tug Billy to the surface.

By the time they break through into the air, Billy’s lungs are burning and he gasps for breath. Above the water is chaos and, for a moment, Billy misses the silence beneath, but it is only for a moment. The cold is stabbing into him, but he can only think about Teddy—Teddy, who is in his arms, shaking and freezing, but alive.

“Keep moving! We have to keep moving!” Billy shouts to him and, then, Billy starts kicking, clutching to his lifebelt with the hand that isn’t locked with Teddy’s. His breath comes out in visible white puffs and he tries to focus on nothing but Teddy’s hand and kicking his legs.

“Look at that. You’re a natural,” Teddy says, his voice wavering, and Billy manages a small smile.

Billy tires quickly, though, despite the help of his lifebelt, and he can tell that Teddy knows. "You can't keep going," Teddy finally gasps. "You'll exhaust yourself."

“I’d rather that than freeze to death,” Billy says, but he knows Teddy’s right. It’s gotten quieter in the past few minutes. People have gone still and Billy has had to shove more than a few floating corpses from his path and he keeps thinking that it can’t just end like this, it _can’t_. “I need—I need something to hold onto, that’s all.”

Teddy nods and he pulls Billy towards a large, bobbing chunk of wreckage—a door, Billy sees as they get closer. Billy throws his arm across it, still feebly kicking his legs beneath the water, and Teddy does the same.

“The boats will be coming back soon,” Teddy manages to say and Billy just nods even though he’s not so sure about that—not so sure that _he_ would come back if he were on one of those boats, safe and dry. They’re silent for a long time and everything else goes silent, too. “I’m in love with you,” Teddy says finally. “You know that, right?”

Billy closes his eyes tight and his hand is so numb that it’s lost all feeling, but he thinks his grip on Teddy tightens, as well. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t say goodbye.” He lets his forehead fall against Teddy’s shoulder. “You’re not dying here. I’m not going to lose you.” He presses his own lips together, trying to bring some warmth back into them. “I’m not going to lose you.”

* * *

 

The boats do come back, but it’s gone entirely silent by the time they arrive. A beam of light swings across Teddy’s face and he tries to part his lips, tries to yell, but he can’t. His whole body is numb and his movements are jerky, but he manages to throw his arm out of the water before letting it fall back down. The splash is enough to gain the attention of the men in the boats and Teddy hears them shout something as they start rowing over.

“Billy, Billy, they’re here,” he says, but Billy’s eyes are shut and his breath is almost gone, only shallow puffs of air passing his lips. Teddy feels his throat closing up and he starts shaking his head. “No, no, no, wake up. Please wake up.”

Then, Teddy is hauled into the boat by two burly, older men and someone wraps a blanket around him, but he’s not thinking about that because Billy is still floating in the water, still like a corpse. “Help him,” he’s pleading. “You have to help him, he’s still alive.”

“Alright, son, alright,” one of the men is assuring him as his companion pulls Billy’s limp form onto the boat by the shoulder straps of his lifebelt.

The man checks for a pulse and nods. “He’s alive, but just barely.”

Teddy is shaking violently, but he manages to unwrap the blanket from around his own shoulders and shove the bundle towards the man. “Don’t let him die,” he begs. “Don’t let him die.”

* * *

 

 

The _Carpathia_ arrives an hour later and Billy is still shaking as they board the ship, walking amongst the seven hundred other survivors—only _seven hundred_ , Billy thinks, feeling dizzy. Only seven hundred out of two thousand—but Teddy is clutching him like a lifeline, supporting at least half his weight as they find somewhere to sit down.  

“I thought you were dead,” Teddy says, his voice shaking, and he drops his forehead to let it rest on Billy’s shoulder. He hasn’t let go of Billy’s hand since he first opened his eyes on the lifeboat and Billy is grateful for it—grateful for the comfort, grateful for the touch, and grateful for Teddy’s warmth, most of all, because it reminds him that he’s alive. “Goddamn it, Billy, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not,” Billy tells him firmly, his free hand cradling the back of Teddy’s head, fingers combing through his hair. “I’m right here.”

America finds them later, their hands still clasped tight, and she breathes out an uneven sigh of relief before pulling Teddy to her chest. “You scared the hell out of me,” she hisses, but it lacks her usual bite and Billy watches as Teddy just wraps his free arm around her, burying his face in her curls. She looks at Billy over his shoulder and Billy sees something in her eyes—something warm, something thankful—and he offers her a smile.

“I saw Kate earlier,” America tells them once she’s released Teddy, who exchanges a look with Billy because since when has America been on a first name basis with _Kate_? America decidedly ignores their raised eyebrows and presses on. “She’s alright.”

Billy lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good.”

Three days later, it starts to rain. They both flinch away from the water, at first, but the rain is oddly warm for New York and, while many people take cover, Teddy just turns his face up and closes his eyes. Billy watches him, studies the way the corners of his mouth twitch up, memorizes the way his hair looks when it’s dripping wet and plastered to his forehead.

The ship is passing the Statue of Liberty when a man walks up to take their names and Billy lies outright, giving his mother’s maiden name in place of his own last name. When Teddy looks at him quizzically, Billy grins.

“When the ship docks, I’m getting off with you,” he says, repeating his words from three nights before.

“You’re insane,” is all Teddy says before he kisses him hard.


End file.
